Autographs In The Rain Part 57

'Now, why was no apparent attempt made to lure Adey away from the farm? I suggest that it was because they knew she wouldn't go, because I had given her and Mercy Alvarez a very clear warning that she should not.

So they didn't even try; they cut her telephone line instead, so she couldn't raise the alarm.'

'What if she had a mobile?' asked McGurk.

They don't work in that gully. Someone knew that too. I have no doubt that it was the same person who knew that it was pointless trying to get her to leave. Strong link number two: Mercy Alvarez, who told me that shedidn't know the other fish farms that had been robbed.'

'Two out of three,' said Pringle.

'Yes. Now what of the third? What about Mellerkirk? How does that connect?'

'It doesn't, sir.' Martin looked at McGurk as he spoke. There's no connection between Lander or Alvarez, and Sir Adrian Watson, not one that I've been able to make, at any rate.'

'Oh there is a connection, Jack. A very clear one. We've all been thinking in terms of maybe ten or twelve grand apiece as the proceeds of these robberies. In other words, okay, but maybe not worth killing over. However, the insured losses in each of the three farms are, Mellerkirk, thirty thousand, Howdengate, forty thousand, and Country Fresh, forty thousand. Total, one hundred and ten thousand pounds, spread over three different insurers so it doesn't show up too fast.

'What do you have? Three businesses operating on the edge of profitability; anyone who steals their fish is actually doing them a favour, for they can restock with the insurance lift and still have a tidy sum left to reinvest, or reduce debt, or whatever. Of course if they're stealing their own fish themselves, they're doing even better, aren't they?'

'They are indeed,' Pringle agreed. 'We're pretty close to nailing Lander and Alvarez. Now all we need to do is tie in that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Watson.'

'If it is him,' Martin countered. 'Adrian Watson's worth about seven million quid cash. On top of that he owns the estate, and he has two f.u.c.king Botticellis hanging on his walls. What the h.e.l.l's he doing involved in a thirty-grand insurance scam, especially one with murder involved?

'His fish are worth stealing, though. Especially ...' He stopped in mid sentence and a big grin spread across his face, wiping away all his earlier weariness.

Pringle stared at the Head of CID; the grin was infectious, it spread to him. 'What is it?' he demanded. 'What the h.e.l.l have you been hiding up your sleeve?'

'It's funny,' said Andy Martin slowly, 'that a good copper's a good copper all the time. Neil Mcllhenney was out for a drive yesterday with a friend.

He took her down to the western end of the Lammermuirs, to the far end of the track that takes the walkers to Longformacus. While he was up there, he spotted a fish farm.'

'But there's no fish farm there, sir,' McGurk protested. 'I've listed them all and I've visited them all. There just isn't one there.'

246.AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN.

'You're right, Jack. There isn't, according to the local environmental health department, or to the Scottish Executive Department of Agriculture, or to the Trout Farmers' a.s.sociation. Sammy Pye checked with all of them this morning, and called me while I was driving down here.

'It doesn't exist, but it's there nonetheless, because big Neil says it is, and so does the lady who was with him. I have a feeling that if you look at Raymond Anders' business records you might find some unexplained equipment purchases that can be explained right there.'

Martin leaned back in his chair. The grin was far from extinguished.

'Sammy checked something else for me too ... bright lad, Sammy. The land in that area is owned by a family trust; there's not much you can do with it other than graze sheep, shoot and fish the river that runs through it.

'The trust was established by a rubber planter who bought the land when he came back from the Far East sixty years ago. He must have seen the war signs in the air and got out in the nick of time. It's administered by a small firm of surveyors to the landed gentry, based in Edinburgh.

'There are only two trustees now; the planter's daughter and her son.

His name is Gates: Bill Gates.'

'The...' exclaimed Dan Pringle, then ran out of adjectives '... b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.'

'Aren't they just. They steal their own fish, take the insurance money, or nearly all of it, and restock at a profit, having transferred the originals to another site for sale in the normal way at top market prices.

'Total take, probably fifty grand each, after they'd paid off Anders and the third man in the team.'

'So what do we do now,' Pringle mused. 'Lift them?'

Martin shook his head. 'Too soon, too soon. You'd get Gates, but if he kept quiet, the Crown Office wouldn't act against Lander or Alvarez on the basis of the evidence we have at the moment.

'We have to catch them together. I don't envy you the job, Dan, but it's got to be done. We have to stake out that farm, until they all show up.'Karen sat in her car and took a deep breath and looked up the narrow path which led to the terraced house. 'Well, Sergeant Neville,' she whispered to herself, 'if you had known that this came with the territory, would you have taken it on?'She saw a curtain move in a ground-floor window. 'Of course you would,'

she answered herself. 'Doesn't make it easy though.' Steeling herself, she stepped out of the car.

The front door opened before she reached it; the woman who awaited her was in the second half of her twenties, only a few years younger than she was herself. She was casually dressed in a Hard Rock teeshirt and designer jeans, but she wore them well. Her dark hair was wavy - permed, Karen guessed.

'Mrs Martin?' the woman in the doorway asked, unnecessarily, for she had been expecting the visit. 'I'm Mary McGurk; come on in.'

She showed the visitor into her small living room; a toddler sat in the middle of the floor, playing intently with a plastic hammer and bricks.

'This is Regan,' said her mother. 'We called her after the guy in The Sweeney. Jack's idea, but it suits her.

'Look at her. She's about as good at the DIY as her father.' She glanced at her visitor again. 'Here, have we met?'

Karen grinned, pleased to be recognised. 'Yes; at a CID dance a couple of years ago. You were with Jack, and I was with Sammy Pye. I was DS Neville then, in the Head of CID's office. I still am in a way ... I married him a few months back.'

'Yes; I remember now, you were the girl in that dress. Fast track to the top, eh?' said Mary McGurk, with a light laugh. 'You're off your mark in another way too, I see. When are you due?'

'The early summer, actually. G.o.d, is it that obvious already?'

'Well, you're quite well endowed naturally . . . who could forget that dress, come to think of it... so ...'

248.

AUTOGRAPHS IN THE RAIN.'Hah,' laughed Karen, 'tell me about it. I expect that I'll have b.o.o.bs like mountains for a few months, but that after that they'll be off to the deep

south.'

'No,' the other woman smiled, 'that's not necessarily how it goes. Good luck to you anyway. There'll be times when you're grateful for the company, if nothing else. Now, would you like a cup of tea? It's made.'

'That'd be nice, thanks.' As she waited, in an armchair, Regan put down her hammer, crawled over and climbed up on to her lap. 'Aunty,' she said in a clear voice.

'Get you down off there!' the mother scolded as she returned.

'Ah, leave her alone, she's fine.'

'Fine, but a bit erratic still, though. Put her down if she starts to feel warm; these new nappies are good, but they don't work miracles.

'So, Mrs Martin,' she said, as she put a cup of tea and a two-finger KitKat on a small table beside her chair, 'what brings you here?'

'For a start, I haven't come to act the grand lady. It's Karen, okay?'

Mary McGurk nodded.

'Andy, my husband, said I should come, but not before Superintendent Pringle spoke to Jack and he agreed.

'I've had a bee in my bonnet for a while, Mary, about the police service and the way it handles its officers. Now, although I've left the force, I'm actually in a position to do something about it.